


Chosen to Fly

by r_lee



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_lee/pseuds/r_lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Spike came to own the Swordfish II.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen to Fly

It wasn't like he was _trying_ to get anyone's attention or anything. That wasn't his thing: he'd always just done what he did. If someone noticed, they noticed. If they didn't, it wasn't like _he_ gave a shit.

When he placed first in the All-Mars Jeet Kune Do Association's Best All-Around Individual Performance... _that_ got Mao Yenrai's attention.

 _Glory-seeker,_ Vicious had called him, but he did it with a laugh. Vicious was strong and skilled but he'd never been a competition street fighter. Nah, that wasn't his style at all. He was always better behind the scenes, getting people ramped up to do shit they never would have done if he hadn't egged them on. Not one to go out there and put his own ass on the line, his area of expertise was getting other people to do shit _for_ him. They made good partners, though. One who didn't want to risk his own hide, and another who didn't give a damn how bad he got hurt. One of them was going to make a hell of a leader one day, and it wasn't him and _his_ skinny ass.

Not that he got hurt much; he was too damn good for that. And the first-place trophy proved _that,_ and when he got back to Tharsis Mao took him aside for a little pseudo-fatherly discussion. It went along these lines:

"Spike, you're almost seventeen. You're going to be working for me, and hopefully that will last for a good long while. You know I can't have any of my men making a name for themselves as sports stars, though."

(He'd known _that_ was coming, lit himself a smoke, nodded.)

"You've done well. For yourself, for the honor of the Red Dragons. In the few years you've been here with us, you've proved yourself our most worthwhile recruit."

(He thanked Mao for his words, wondering where the hell this was heading.)

"To show my appreciation, I'm sending you on a job. This one's a solo effort. I don't want Vicious going with you, not this time."

( _That_ was weird. Everyone knew he and Vicious were partners. They worked together. But when the boss said _you go here and he goes there,_ you went where you were told.)

"You're going to Earth to see a man named Doohan. He's going to be making a delivery, something only you can bring back. You understand?"

(Oh, yeah, he understood. Need to know and all that shit, and his only question was _when do I leave?_ )

"Tomorrow. On the 6:12 shuttle." Nodding to the door dismissively, he added one more thing. "6:12 in the _morning,_ Spike. Don't miss it."

(Shit.)

***

"I need to stay for _how_ long?" Shit, he'd only packed enough clothes for a couple days. Mao never mentioned that this was some long-term operation. Then again, he never mentioned exactly what was going to be coming back with him either.

"Until I'm satisfied you won't crash the Swordfish your first time out. I don't think you can learn everything you need to know about her in under two months, my boy." The prospect didn't seem to faze Doohan at all, but he... he was just about to turn seventeen and his whole _life_ was on Mars. His job, his friends, his room, his clothes... hell, at least he had his gun and a few cartons of smokes.

"Why do _I_ need to learn to fly this old hunk of junk so well?" Suspicious, he lifted a boot to the side of the ship to give it a not-quite-affectionate kick.

Doohan moved quickly. "Touch her like that and the whole deal's off. Didn't anyone ever tell you that a lady has to be treated with respect?" Huffing, frowning, fucking _glaring,_ he wiped down the ship's side with a buffing cloth. "Didn't Mao tell you anything?"

Uh... "No." Flicking the lighter away in his pocket, he moved to tap ashes off the end of his cigarette but thought the better of letting them fall, instead catching them in his cupped palm. He hated doing that, but... "All he said was I'd be bringing something back."

"Listen to me, boy." Doohan folded his arms across his chest, angry. "I didn't sell the Swordfish here to just anyone. I sold her to Mao because he said he was sending me his best pilot, the one who was going to prove he could _earn_ this ship, not just receive her as another birthday present. And for the record, she's not an old hunk of junk. I built her myself, and the decision on whether or not you're good enough to keep her lies with me. Do we understand?"

"Huh?" This _ship_ was the cargo? And it was going to be his? For his birthday? Mao sent his best pilot? _Him?_ "Yeah. We understand." It was with a much softer hand that he reached out to pat the side of the ship now, a slow smile spreading over his face. He was starting to get it.

***

"Well. Now I wonder what _I'll_ get for my seventeenth birthday." All long legs and long hair and cold gray eyes, Vicious stretched out on the chair. "If _you_ got a ship."

So much damn competition. "Yo. I'm sure he'll think of something." Being younger by a couple months had always pissed Vicious off; he did everything he could to act not just months but _years_ older than everyone else.

Whatever. One seventeen-year-old award-winning street fighter with his own damn ship tossed the key to the Swordfish II back and forth in the air, catching it in his palm. He'd be curious to see what Mao came up with for Vicious too, and he didn't give a shit _what_ it was. Nothing could top his new ship, even if he'd had to stay on Earth nearly three months to earn her.

(When the time came, Vicious was given a bird.)  



End file.
